Pandemic has inspired a cleanout of homes
Michele Weinstein started the novel coronavirus pandemic like many people: doing nothing for weeks and feeling paralyzed while stuck in her home in Bethesda, Md.
But then the empty-nester took a good, hard look around the home she had lived in for 27 years. “I said, ‘Oh my, I have to do something here,’ “Weinstein says. “I saw that I had saved everything that I have ever owned.”
Not since the January 2019 purging tsunami inspired by Marie Kondo’s tidying Netflix series have Americans been so inspired to edit the junk out of their homes. But, this time, amid stay-at-home orders and social distancing guidelines, our options for getting rid of that junk are limited. Yard sales are risky. Some charity donation dropoff centers remain closed. And some municipalities have limited bulk trash collection.
“People are feeling their spaces right now,” says Gretchen Rubin, author of nine books, including “Outer Order, Inner Calm: Declutter and Organize to Make More Room for Happiness.” “Some people feel like nesting and just want to paint everything. Others feel claustrophobic. Many have figured out they need more elbow room. Some are thinking, ‘I don’t want to waste something I’m not using. I want to put it back out in the world.’ “
“Think of how many people created home offices out of a room they had used for storage,” says Michael Frohm, chief operating officer for Goodwill of Greater Washington, which saw donations rise by 20 percent over last year and rented three temporary warehouses to store them. “They didn’t want all that stuff in back of them during a Zoom call. They were forced to clear it out.”
In June, when an aunt offered Weinstein an entire set of family room furniture, she looked at her basement rec room and envisioned a hangout space for her four grandchildren. But it was stacked to the ceiling with overflowing shopping bags, a set of 1962 World Book encyclopedias, old TVs and boxes of toys from her now 30-something kids. Energized, she took action. Her aunt’s house was going on the market, so there was a deadline. For 10 days, Weinstein, a real estate agent, worked from morning to night, filling dozens of trash bags. “I felt so much lighter,” she says. Weinstein hired Shred-it to pick up and dispose of four giant bins of old files. And she called 1-800-Got-Junk to haul away the rest.
Claudine Rubin, owner of the Washington franchise of 1-800-Got-Junk, says that in March, business slowed down as people stayed home and attempted to adjust to their new reality. “Then in April, we saw a huge surge,” Rubin says. “As waste removal, we were considered an essential business. Many dumps were closed to the public, and bulk pickup was suspended in a lot of areas. You couldn’t make donations. That’s where we got our spike.”
Like others in the hauling business, Rubin transitioned to no-contact junk removal with protective gear and payments over the phone. Customers texted photos of their busted beach chairs or dented filing cabinets to minimize contact. For treadmills and sofas, employees went inside with masks and gloves.
Some customers, such as Amy Garver of Gaithersburg, Md., had them clear out entire rooms. Garver, a teacher’s assistant, reclaimed a former playroom to turn it into a study area with spaces for her three kids. Rubin’s crew hauled out a truckload of old shelving units, unwanted craft projects and games with missing pieces.
Customers’ junk is recycled or repurposed, if possible, Rubin says. The company held on to as much reusable clothing and housewares as it could, waiting until donation centers such as Habitat for Humanity started to reopen.